


Shutter

by GarbageVanFleet



Category: Greta Van Fleet (Band)
Genre: F/M, Oral Sex, Smoking, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-24
Updated: 2020-04-24
Packaged: 2021-03-01 22:47:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,453
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23814844
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GarbageVanFleet/pseuds/GarbageVanFleet
Summary: Based on a request by @n1-party-anthem on Tumblr.Request: "Reader is a photographer for a specific pub and nonfamous GVF plays there. Reader takes a lot of pics of Jake and he notices. Make it smutty."
Relationships: Jake Kiszka/Original Female Character(s), Jake Kiszka/Reader
Kudos: 6





	Shutter

There was no denying it - you picked the wrong shoes. You had no idea why you would have picked a pair of heels to wear tonight, especially since you’d been doing this gig since before you finished high school.

The bar was a labor of love. It was a bit of a hole in the wall - you could admit that - but it had everything it needed. There was a stage, two bathrooms, and a bar that never ran dry. Your parents had owned it since you were a little kid, and you always knew that you wanted to take it over for them someday. Seeing them put their own blood, sweat, and tears into the place to keep it going had always been the foundation of your upbringing. 

They had been more than hesitant when you first told them you wanted to start helping around the place, and since you hadn’t been old enough to serve alcohol, you were made to clean up, bus tables - that sort of thing. It wasn’t until you turned eighteen that you decided maybe it was time for a new role. 

You saved up all the money you could, bought yourself a nice camera and dubbed yourself the bar marketing director. It was obviously a completely made up title, but your parents had no idea how to work any social media accounts, so they let you have it. 

While it meant a lot of late nights, early mornings, and countless backaches, it also meant that you never missed a show. The bands were never that big, obviously - if they were they wouldn’t be playing at a dive bar - but a lot of them were genuinely good. Talented people playing honest music. 

  
  


But for tonight, you had picked the wrong shoes. 

  
  


It was only 6:30 and your toes were aching from being all squished together. There was a good sized crowd of people gathering around the bar area, getting drinks from the bartender while the band set up on the stage. You briefly wondered if you had time to run to the house and change into something more comfortable, but you knew that it would probably be more work than it was worth. 

You snapped a couple of pictures of the setup process, thinking that you’d dub it  _ behind the scenes _ . There was a boy in an interesting enough position - crouched down on the stage as he fiddled with some pedals, but as you lifted the camera to capture the moment, he looked up at you, pushing his long hair away from his face. 

  
  


He gave you an expectant smile, but. 

  
  


He was so striking that all you could do was stare at him. His sharp jawline and the slope of his nose - It all fit so perfectly on his face, like someone had sculpted him. He was wearing a t-shirt, expertly ripped to look distressed, showing you peeks of his tan skin through the holes.

  
  


His expression turned humored, making you blush as you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. 

  
  


“You good?” he asked smugly, sounding like he was all too used to people having this reaction. 

  
  


You huffed at him, trying to sound annoyed instead of stricken. “I’m just fine,  _ thank you _ . But it ruins the picture if you look at the camera.”

  
  


“I think that just makes it posed instead of candid.” His response was respectful, but easily let you know that he wasn’t buying your act. 

  
  


You squinted accusatorily at him and said pointedly, “Yeah, ruining it.”

  
  


He huffed a laugh at you, standing and hopping down from the stage. A couple of other guys were starting to set stuff up behind him, and even though they were pretending not to, you could tell they were listening. 

  
  


“Okay, I’ll make you a deal,” he stated, crossing his arms over his chest and raising an eyebrow at you. You could tell immediately that you were going to hate the next words that came out of his mouth. “I’ll let you take pictures of me-”

  
  


His eyes raked your form up and down.

  
  


“If you let me take some of you.”

  
  


He flashed you a cheeky grin, as you could feel your whole body go hot. You could see one of the other guys smirking as he put together a drum kit, obviously hearing the whole exchange. 

  
  


“Yeah, we’ll see,” you scoffed at him, but there was no way to hide how pink your cheeks were. 

  
  


You were able to keep yourself busy behind the bar. Fortunately enough for the band, the bar was experiencing a rush of patrons, all excited to drink until they couldn’t stand. 

From the minute the boys came out onto the stage, the crowd loved them, and you had to admit - they were talented. The vocalist had this mop of curls and a smile that had everyone in the place melting. He would belt out these lines that could have shattered windows. The bassist had a really sweet face and you could tell he had an emotional attachment to every note. The drummer was handsome and built, muscles flexing with every hit. And the guitarist - that one - well, his fingers moved expertly across the neck, quick and precise. 

They were so entrancing that it took you a moment to remember that you were supposed to be taking photos of them. 

You pulled your camera up to your face, trying all your learned tricks to get good angles and lighting. You thought you were doing a good job until the bartender - a close family friend - tapped your shoulder, a smirk on her face. 

  
  


“Are you planning on taking pictures of anyone other than the guitarist?” she asked, having to almost yell over the music. You frowned at her for a second until you realized that she was right.

There was a sheen of sweat across his face, making his features appear dangerously sharp. 

The air in the bar was sauna hot - you couldn’t remember a time when there were so many people packed in. Every middle-aged woman seemed to be in love with the band, and the way the singer was blowing kisses at them from the stage told you most of what you needed to know. 

You tried to get pictures of everyone else, you really did, but your eyes kept flicking over to the guitarist on their own accord. He was electric - his energy was so confident and collected. You felt like there was a wire attached from him to you, and every time he looked back into your eyes, it shocked you immobile for a moment. 

When the band had finished their set, they stepped off the stage, the crowd of patrons swallowing them up with warm remarks. 

You excused yourself to a corner of the bar, leaning against the wall as you pulled out your camera and started flipping through the film. Guitarist, guitarist, vocalist, guitarist, drummer, guitarist, guitarist, bassist. You rolled your eyes at yourself. 

  
  


Then suddenly he was right there in front of you, lit cigarette hanging from his lips. 

  
  


You scowled at him. “You’re definitely not allowed to smoke in here. Or anywhere else for that matter.”

  
  


He held a drink out for you, ignoring your previous complaints. 

  
  


“I’m not old enough to drink,” you said, casting your eyes to the floor. He grinned at you, taking the camera from your grip and replacing it with a short glass of brown liquid. 

  
  


“Me either,” he said smugly around the filter. “Lighten up.”

  
  


You grabbed for your camera, but he pulled it further away from your grasp. As he looked through it, you could feel your cheeks turning fire red. His eyes flicked up to look at you through his long lashes.

He set your camera on the side of the bar and when the bartender saw it, she tucked it beneath the counter, shooting you an encouraging look. 

  
  


“Come on,” he said, giving a nod toward the front door. 

  
  


You almost didn’t follow him, but he turned to catch your eyes over his shoulder, and then your feet started moving on their own. You had to wind through people, having to pause a couple of times as people reached out to shake his hand and congratulate him on his performance. He joked with them, remaining ever-charming, but kept it brief each time. 

He let you step out into the night first, allowing the screen door to shut behind him, The air outside was only slightly cooler outside, and just as humid, but the slight wind felt nice enough that you closed your eyes and let it blow against your face. 

  
  


You watched him smoke down his cigarette for a second while he kept his eyes on you, not saying a word but not needing to. 

  
  


“What’s your name?” you asked, hating how sheepish it sounds coming out. 

  
  


“Jake,” he replied simply, stubbing out the butt of his cigarette against the brick wall and then tossing it out into the dirt and gravel parking lot. “You?”

  
  


“Y/N. Well, Jake. Why are we out here?” 

  
  


He gave you a smirk, boldly wrapping his arm around your waist and pulling you in. Against your ear, he said, “Why do you think?”

  
  


You shivered slightly, his smoky breath lingering. Anxiously, you lifted your glass to your lips and took a sip. “Awfully cocky of you to assume I want that.” 

  
  


He chuckled, putting his fingers on your jaw so he could turn your face to him. “That’s cute.”

  
  


“What is?” you said with a scowl, your lips only inches from his then. 

  
  


“You are.” You didn’t want to give him the satisfaction, but you couldn’t stop yourself from blushing at the compliment. When he pressed his mouth against yours, you tensed, but it only took a second for you to realize that he was right - you were being uptight. You were attracted to him - that much had to be clear to everyone around you. 

After a beat, you melted, letting him press you back against the brick. His fingers sliding through your hair made you hum into his mouth, his other hand running up the back of your shirt to toy with the band of your bra. You let him open your mouth, feeling disgusted at how much you loved the whiskey and tobacco taste. 

He wasn’t being rough, by any stretch of the imagination, but he wasn’t being too gentle either. He nipped at your bottom lip and then at your chin as he worked his mouth down to your neck. His fingers, wrapped in your hair, tugged your head back to give him full access to your throat. You were positive he could feel how fast your heart was beating through the pulse under his lips. 

You had to bite back a moan as his teeth dragged against your tender skin, trying to remember that you were outside where almost anyone could see you. 

  
  


You pulled away from him, lacing your fingers through his to let him know you weren’t rejecting him. “Come on,” you said, tugging him off down the alleyway behind the bar. 

  
  


It was only a block to your house - or rather your parents’ house, but you knew they’d still be at the bar, so you weren’t concerned about that. You let yourself in through the front door and kissed him roughly in the foyer, the house still completely dark. 

He moaned against your lips as he pressed his hips into yours, holding you still so he could grind against you. You could feel your body starting to cold sweat and tingle, the pleasure and forbidden nature of the situation making your adrenaline rush. Your parents had never let you have a boy in your house before - any time you ever wanted to date, it was always in secret - but you were an adult now. An adult that really wanted to fuck this guy. 

  
  


You lead him down the hall and up the stairs, and once you reached your room, you flicked the light on and dimmed it. You were faced away from him, so it forced a shocked squeak out of you when he turned you around and pushed you back onto your bed. 

When he crawled over you, he picked up where he’d left off at the bar - his lips and teeth on your collarbone as his hand squeezed at your breast. He kneaded the flesh with his fingers, finding your nipple through the unlined fabric and rubbing slightly against it until it was perked to attention. When he started to get impatient with the number of clothes you were wearing, he tugged the bottom hem of your tank top up until your bra was completely exposed. He left your top bunched up under your arms, creating the perfect frame for your cleavage as he connected his mouth with the outline of your nipple through the sheer lace. 

You sucked in a sharp breath because as he nipped against it, he also slid his hand along your leg and up the bottom of your skirt. His fingers were dancing along the skin on your thigh, forcing goosebumps to rise all over your body. You could feel your core tingling with the anticipation of his touch. You needed it. 

You wrapped your fingers around his wrist and placed his hand over your panties. Immediately, his fingers prodded along the outline of your folds through the soft cotton, causing you to tip your head back. When he brushed over your clit, you let out a pitchy whimper, bucking your hips up for more. 

You thought he’d be smirking, but when you got the guts to look at him, he was watching his fingers work, looking like he was about to start drooling. He slipped down the bed, kneeling on the floor as he slid your skirt off. 

His hands grabbed roughly around your hips and he tugged you down further until your legs were over his shoulders. He pulled your panties to the side and you let out a needy moan, but whether it was from the feeling of being manhandled or because you knew you were about to get eaten like a meal, you weren’t sure. 

The first time his lips connected with your pussy, your fingers wrapped tightly enough in your blankets that you were scared of ripping them. His mouth was hot as he placed a series of kisses against your clit, pressure rising with every one. You could tell that he wasn’t going to fuck around - he sucked it into his mouth just as he met your eyes. 

You wanted to feel bad about it, but you couldn’t find the thread of guilt when your hand placed itself on the back of his head, holding him there. It looked like he loved it though because he just buried himself in further, tongue working deliciously against you. 

You’d never been treated like this before - the only other time you’d ever been given head, it wasn’t very pleasant. It left a bad taste in your mouth - for lack of a better term. But if you had known it could be like this? You would have been demanding it. 

His fingers were playing around your entrance, making you aware of his intentions, so it didn’t shock you too much when he slid one into you. He just held it there for a moment, letting you get used to it before he started stroking the pad of it against the inside of you. 

  
  


“Fuck,” you breathed, not recognizing the voice that came out of you. “Don’t stop.”

  
  


He proved that he had no intention of doing so by rolling your clit around with his tongue, flicking against it. His finger started working in and out of you, slow enough to let you appreciate the drag. He didn’t let you get too comfortable with it though before he was adding a second one. 

The building of pleasure was starting to make you tremble in a way that gave away it’s ending.

His mouth made you come so intensely that your vision went slightly fuzzy around the edges, making you let out an obscene moan. He worked his fingers into you well after your orgasm had washed away, seemingly just for his own amusement. 

He placed one last kiss against your clit with a light laugh, causing your whole body to jerk from over sensitivity. Gently, he let your legs slide off his shoulders and you toed off your painful shoes as he crawled over you. 

He held his wet fingers up to your face like they were the barrel of a gun, and when you went to ask what he intended to do with them, he pushed them past your lips. 

You let out a squeak around them as he smirked at you, giving you an expectant look. 

  
  


“Clean them off for me, okay?” His voice was soft and quiet, but still just as commanding and smooth. 

  
  


Obligingly, you ran your tongue along them for him, and when he was satisfied, he withdrew them. 

  
  


“You like how you taste?” Just for show, he slipped them into his mouth next, pulling them out with a pop. “I do.”

  
  


You felt your face go hot, but he didn’t stop to comment on it. He was already undoing his belt, not bothering to slide it through the loops - just pushing his pants down to the floor and stepping out of them. The fabric of his briefs did not leave much to the imagination, and you eyed the perfectly clear outline of his cock with a sense of wonder. He didn’t let you sit in suspense for too long before he was sliding those off too. 

  
  


Your lips dropped open a bit at how obscene it was to see him standing at the foot of your bed, mouth wet and completely naked from the waist down. You must have had quite the look on your face, because it prompted him to ask, “Are you okay?”

  
  


You ripped your eyes away from his cock. There was a small smirk on his lips, but still a tinge of concern in his voice. “Just recovering,” you assured, clearly a bit embarrassed. 

  
  


His shirt was the last to go, exposing his tan, unmarred skin. You wondered how many shows he played outside to get that golden tone. He dipped to grab a condom out of the pocket of his jeans, forcing a laugh from you as he slid it on. 

  
  


When he crawled back over you, he connected your mouths and you kissed him back hungrily, welcoming him back into your arms. He wasn’t about to waste time anymore - that much was clear as lined himself up. He slid the length of himself into you, nice and slow so you could savor it. 

You let out a breathy moan against his lips as he let you adjust to the full feeling, but you ground your hips against him to let him know you were more than ready. 

With a straight, determined face, he grabbed your thigh and hitched it up around his waist. As he started thrusting into you, the sensation became unexplainably intense. Your whole body felt hot, but your core felt like it was burning up from the inside out. The pleasure was almost too much, to the point where you couldn’t even make any noise, just look up at him with an open mouth. 

  
  


“Breathe,” he instructed through a huffy laugh, but you had been completely unaware that you hadn’t been breathing.

  
  


As you exhaled, your fingers dug into the skin on his back. You felt like you were in a completely different dimension - every thrust sending a kaleidoscope of colors dancing across your vision. 

His eyes were shut, teeth on his bottom lip.

  
  


“You feel so good.” You couldn’t get your volume above a whisper, but you knew he heard you because his eyes fluttered open, slowed from the pleasure. 

The compliment spurred him on until his hips were snapping into you, watching your expression change. You bit back a dirty moan, but his hand was suddenly cupping your face - he looked so intensely turned on as he spoke. 

  
  


“Don’t hold it back,” he demanded. “I wanna hear it.” 

  
  


His face was glowing - still damp from the show - his eyes wild with want. He looked like he was truly on top of the world. He got what he wanted when he pressed his thumb against your clit, rubbing circles that caused a choked cry to escape from your chest. The pleasure it sent through you felt like you’d been hooked up to a live wire - an electric current ripping through your limbs. 

He was clearly pleased with himself as he licked his lips absently and let his eyes rake over your face and down your body. He sat up until he was kneeling between your legs, holding under both of your knees to keep you how he wanted. He watched his cock slip in and out of you, his thumb working against you with a hungry look you’d never seen anyone make before.

You felt yourself approaching an orgasm that you were scared to have - not entirely sure you’d live through it.

The waves of pleasure were hitting you so hard that they were making your breathing stutter. You knew that your nails were dug into the meat of his outer thighs, but you couldn’t unfurl your fingers, no matter how hard you tried. 

You had been so taken with your own peak that you hadn’t really noticed how close he was to his. He came just before you, falling forward with a hand pressed into the mattress on either side of your head, his eyes locked into yours. He let out a guttural groan through clenched teeth, pleasure making him fall out of rhythm. 

You were already so close that seeing him come undone above you forced you over the edge too. The orgasm swallowed you whole, and all you could do was bury your face into his neck, attempting to muffle your unabashed noises against his skin. He wrapped his hand behind your head, holding you there as he slowly worked you through it. 

On the other side, you were staring up at the ceiling, chest heaving as you came down from a high you’d never experienced before. You held him against you for a few good minutes, scared that if you let him go, he would gather his shit and leave too quickly - you weren’t sure how to handle a disappointment like that.

But when he pulled away far enough, he took you by complete surprise, pressing a sweet kiss against your lips. You gazed up at him, sure you looked like you’d been hit by a truck, but he looked just as disheveled. 

You took a second to appreciate that you pulled him apart as you tucked his hair behind his ear.  Your fingers lingered, lightly brushing against his sharp cheekbone. 

He smiled down at you, breathing a laugh, and after a few more tender moments, he pulled out of you, sitting back on his heels as he carefully pulled the condom off and tied it closed. You plucked it from his grasp and gingerly deposited it into the trash can next to your bed as he clambered up into a standing position. He was clearly a little stiff as he pulled his briefs back on, rubbing at the back of his neck. 

When he dipped to pick his shirt off the floor, you got a nice view of the little half-moon shaped marks your nails left on his back - angry and red. 

He turned his head to look at you as you gasped. 

  
  


“I really scratched you up,” you admitted to him sheepishly, dragging your teeth along your bottom lip. “Sorry.”

  
  


He hummed smugly as he slipped his shirt back on. “It’s all good. Truthfully, I like to look at them the morning after.”

  
  


He sat on the window sill as he slid the glass open. “Mind if I have a smoke?” 

  
  


You shook your head, still blushing about his last remark. You watched intently as he fumbled one out of the pack and slid it into his mouth.

By the time you were redressed and tucked under the covers, he’d smoked it down to the filter and tossed it out onto the lawn. 

  
  


“You want me to join you?” he asked, nodding to the open space next to you on the mattress. 

  
  


You frowned at him. “Aren’t your friends going to wonder where you are?” 

  
  


“They’re my brothers, and no. I’m sure they know where I am.” He gave you a suggestive wink before he crossed the room and slid in next to you. 

You were just about to flick the light off when you heard him breathe a, “Wait.”

  
  


When you turned to inquire, he was pulling his phone out and opening it. You tried not to be embarrassed as he pushed you back into a laying position and you heard the shutter noise. 

  
  


“Hey,” you protested, but he was already handing you his phone to inspect. The picture was angled conveniently to leave out your face, but it captured the curves of your body through your pajama shirt well. You had to admit that it was pretty flattering. 

You flicked your eyes up to him, giving you an expectant smile. 

  
  


“That was the deal, right?” he asked smoothly. 

  
  


You huffed a laugh at him, nodding in defeat. 

  
  


He was shockingly gentle as he pulled you into his side, and you hadn’t realized you’d fallen asleep until you were startled awake by the sound of the front door opening. 

  
  


Heart racing, you nudged against his shoulder until his eyes popped open. “I’m so sorry,” you whispered, brushing his hair out of his face as gently as you could. “That’s my parents - you should probably go.”

  
  


He groggily sat up, rubbing at his eyes. He was wearing a smirk that told you it wasn’t the first time he’d been chased out of a girl’s bed, and it wouldn’t be the last. “Shit, okay.” 

  
  


He got his jeans on as quietly as he could in his haste and met you by the window. You had slid it open for him, slow enough that it didn’t make a noise. You let him slip out and onto the grass before grabbing him by the back of the neck and giving him one last, deep kiss, forcing him to laugh against your lips. 

  
  


“Thanks for everything,” you whispered, offering him an honest smile.

  
  


He gave you a smug smile in return. “Does this mean we’ll be playing here again?” 

  
  


“I think so.” 

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> follow @garbagevanfleet.tumblr.com for more


End file.
